


The fucking Tennessee Smokies

by ChocolateAndRedbull



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Harley Keener & Peter Parker Friendship, Harley Keener Needs a Hug, Harley Keener is a Good Bro, Hurt Harley Keener, Hurt Peter, Hurt Peter Parker, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Parent Tony Stark, Pepper Potts Is a Good Bro, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter is a Little Shit, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Pepper Potts, Protective Tony Stark, Sick Character, Sick Peter Parker, Sickfic, Tony Stark Acting as Harley Keener's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, emeto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:49:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28864320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateAndRedbull/pseuds/ChocolateAndRedbull
Summary: “Yeah, there’s uh, there’s something going ‘round at school. I saw like three kids’ technicolour yawn in the hallway today.”“Great,” Tony muttered. “And what are the chances that your spider ass is gonna get it too?”“Uh, considering that I’ve caught every bug that’s gone around the school since kindergarten? I’d say pretty much 100%,” he said distractedly.“Of course,” Tony sighed.
Relationships: Harley Keener & Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 3
Kudos: 143





	The fucking Tennessee Smokies

**Author's Note:**

> this has been in my head for literal months and i cant write anything else until i get it out plz dont hate me i know it sucks k bye

Who would’ve thought that Peter Parker, _Peter Fucking Parker_ , would be in to baseball.

Well, not the entire sport, just one team in particular. And not even the Yankees or the Mets or the Cubs or _someone good_.

The fucking Tennessee Smokies.

Harley had gotten him a Smokies hat when Peter had asked for a souvenir from his last trip back home to see his mom and sister, and Peter had taken it and was soon spouting facts and stats, much to the confusion of both Harley and Tony, but neither had the heart to discourage this newfound interest that made him bounce on his toes with excitement when he got going.

So that is how they found themselves on this Friday night, Peter strung over the sofa in the penthouse living room, adorned in a Smokies branded t-shirt and baseball hat, chewing a stick of gum compulsively to avoid biting his nails as the team slipped behind by one.

Harley lay flat on his back on the other sofa, arm slung over his eyes, having lost interest in the game long ago.

Pepper had settled into the armchair with a stack of contracts an hour before, smiling fondly each time Peter exclaimed at the tv.

Tony, who would swear until his dying breath that _the Smokies_ _sucked, and what were the Cubs_ doing _being affiliated with those no-good pansies,_ sat beside a dozing Harley, gaze fixed on the tv as if the game would be lost if he so much as blinked.

The room stilled, aside from Peter’s jumping leg, as the batters changed out and the trance was broken when Harley shifted and forced out a wet belch followed by a shuddering groan. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Not feeling too hot.”

With that Pepper rose to her feet and made a quick exit, leaving her stack of contracts forgotten on the coffee table alongside the soda cans and empty potato chip bags.

Tony’s gaze faltered from the tv, hissing as another batter struck out, sticking his arm out and placing his palm against the teenager’s forehead. It took him a moment to come to his senses as he dragged his eyes away from the game, frowning down at the heat coming off the boy in waves.

“You alright, buddy?” he questioned worriedly.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Just an upset stomach,” he said, shifting uncomfortably, stifling another sickly belch into his fist.

“Think you might throw up?” Tony asked, pressing the back of his hand to the boy’s cheek.

Harley hummed as his stomach churned. “Uh…” _A hiccup_. “Probably?”

Peter, who had been glued to the game as it came down to the final inning, finally piped up, “Oh, he definitely will.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “You seem fairly sure about that.”

Peter, now sitting hunched forward as another batter made it home, never tore his eyes from the widescreen tv. “Yeah, there’s uh, there’s something going ‘round at school. I saw like three kids’ technicolour yawn in the hallway today.”

“Great,” Tony muttered. “And what are the chances that your spider ass is gonna get it too?”

“Uh, considering that I’ve caught every bug that’s gone around the school since kindergarten? I’d say pretty much 100%,” he said distractedly.

“Of course,” Tony sighed, frowning as Harley groaned, slowly moving to sit up. “Alright, buddy, take it easy.”

The movement put more pressure on the boy’s stomach and forced out a queasy belch. Harley clapped a hand to his mouth as his jaw stiffened.

“Shit,” Tony murmured, glancing around for a trashcan when suddenly a basin appeared in front of him and was shoved under the kid’s chin just in time for vomit to spew from between his fingers. Tony blinked up at Pepper, who had the first aid box under her arm, grimacing as the boy retched beside them.

Peter’s nose crinkled at the smell before exclaiming at the tv once more.

Tony rolled his eyes as he got up from his seat, letting Pepper sit down and comfort the trembling teen. Tony crossed the room to Peter, unceremoniously knocking the hat off his head and slapping a hand to the kid’s forehead nowhere near as gently as he had with Harley.

“You’re a little warm as well, are you feeling alright?”

Peter scowled, ducking away from his hand as he craned his neck to see the tv. “’M fine,” he grunted, but Tony couldn’t miss the way he shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, contorting to take the pressure off his abdomen.

“Yeah, alright,” Tony remarked. “Let’s go, you’re both going to bed.”

Harley, still hanging his head over the basin, stood up shakily as Peter protested. “It’s the bottom of the ninth! You can’t make me go now!”

Tony glanced at the tv. “Fine, let me go get Harley settled and when this is over you can come up, sounds good?”

Peter just grumbled, stretching to see around Tony when he crossed his path.

“Alright, buddy, let’s go,” Tony said gently, patting Harley’s back comfortingly and leading him towards his room.

* * *

After getting Harley set up in bed with a fresh water bottle, Tony carefully grabbed the basin and brought it into the adjoining bathroom and emptied it’s contents into the toilet.

As he moved back towards the sink to rinse it out, he heard Peter trudge into the bedroom, now changed into his pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt. Tony left the basin on the countertop and turned to find the teenager standing in the doorway, a pained look on his face.

“Who won?” Tony asked, eyebrow raised.

“Not us,” the kid grumbled, wincing as his stomach cramped. “Can I, uh…?” he questioned, nodding towards the toilet.

“Sure, buddy, take your time,” Tony said, heading for the door. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yep,” he said shortly, closing the door quickly behind him and clicking the lock shut.

Tony made a mental note to keep an eye on him before turning towards the kid curled up on the bed. “I’m gonna go get you something to settle your stomach, okay buddy?”

Harley just nodded tiredly before adding, “And something for uh, diarrhoea?” he said quietly.

Tony stopped. “Are you- uh…?”

Harley shook his head. “Not me, uh, Peter… I think,” he mumbled.

Tony looked towards the bathroom door. “Yeah, that makes sense,” he said as he ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll see what I can find.”

* * *

When Tony returned with the entire first aid box, he found Harley curled up in the bed, breathing shallowly.

“Buddy? Hey, Harls, hey, you’re alright, it’s okay,” Tony soothed, rushing over to him. “Where’s Pete?”

“Sick,” he mumbled, hand hovered over his mouth and Tony cursed as he realized that he had left the basin in the bathroom to be cleaned out. A glance towards the door confirmed that Peter was still inside with the door locked.

Tony leapt up and knocked on the door. “Pete? Let’s go, buddy, Harley’s not feeling too good.”

Peter responded with a loud heave, followed by the sound of vomit hitting the toilet water. Harley gave a pained hum as he sat up, his jaw clenching as he put all his willpower into holding down his lunch.

Tony pounded on the door again. “Pete, come on, kid,” he called desperately.

Harley shakily stood up, stumbling towards the door with a hand pressed to his lips and his eyes squeezed shut.

Tony knew they were running out of time. “Pete, he’s gonna blow! Let’s move it!”

Tony could hear Peter moving around inside, but he knew it was no use. He glanced at the teen beside him just as vomit spewed from between his fingers, hitting the door and sluggishly landing on the floor in front of them. Harley gagged again as he projectile vomited everything he had eaten in the last 24 hours onto the stylish tiled floors of Stark Towers. Tony looked away as the shear amount of vomit made his own stomach roll uncomfortably.

Harley gasped as he got a break from his heaving, bent double as he coughed and spat out chunks of whatever it was that he had struggled to digest. “’M sorry,” he choked.

Tony shushed him. “Hey, none of that, it’s fine, buddy,” he hummed. “You think you’re done?”

Harley shook his head, blindly reaching out a slapping the door weakly. Tony knocked on the door again. “Pete? Buddy, open up,” he called.

The door swung open just as Harley doubled over and hurled once again. Peter stood in the doorway pale faced and woozy before Harley retched again and Peter turned back towards the toilet and lost the remainder of his own stomach contents.

Tony sighed before guiding Harley over the alarmingly large puddle of vomit and towards the bathtub, rubbing his back comfortingly as he coughed up more vomit.

“I’m going to get the mop, guys, just yell if you need me,” Tony said, unsure of how to help while both boys were heaving painfully. 

* * *

Pepper looked up from where she was stirring a pot of soup to see Tony enter the kitchen.

“How are they?” she asked, unsure if she really wanted an answer.

Tony looked shocked. “There’s just- _so much puke_ ,” he muttered. “I- uh, I need the mop and- uh, two buckets.”

Pepper raised an eyebrow as he added with an afterthought, “And something to clean a door with.”

* * *

When Tony returned, he found both boys curled up asleep in the king size bed. He quickly placed a bucket beside Peter and retrieved the basin for Harley, desperate to not have a repeat of earlier. He quietly mopped up the gigantic pile of sick in the doorway and wiped down the door. He had Friday open the windows to lose the stale smell in the air and was just about to leave to let them rest when Peter groaned and rolled over onto his stomach. Tony froze as the teenager pushed himself up onto his knees with a whimper and Tony just got the bucket in front of him before watery vomit poured from his lips.

“Alright, kiddo, just get it all up,” he murmured as he patted the kid on the back.

Peter grunted as his stomach cramped harshly. “Bathroom,” he whimpered.

“The bucket’s fine, buddy, don’t worry about it,” Tony mollified.

Peter just shook his head frantically as he crawled off the bed and stiffly walked towards the door, fumbling with the waistband of his pyjama pants.

Tony sighed as he watched him go, wondering how long this was going to last for and praying the boys could sleep through most of it.

His prayers were short lived when Harley shot up with a harsh gag and leaned over the side of the bed, upchucking into the basin on the floor beside him. Tony immediately slid over to him and pulled his sweaty mop of hair from his forehead as he groaned.

“Kid, you’re thin as a rake. Where are you even putting all this puke?” Tony laughed softly.

Harley grunted as he spat into the basin, hanging his head over the basin as a precaution before mumbling, “I got a hollow leg.”

Tony chuckled. “A hollow leg? You might want to get that looked at.”

Harley’s jaw twitched with the shadow of a gag. “But then- ugh, then where would I put all my puke?”

Tony snorted as he ran his hand through the kid’s hair. “That’s a reasonable excuse if ever I heard one.”

Harley huffed out a laugh which quickly turned into a groan. “Where’s uh, where’s Peter?”

“Shitting his brains out, I think?” Tony guessed as he sat back on the bed.

“Gross,” Harley muttered.

“ _Tell me about it_ ,” came a call from the other side of the bathroom door.

Tony laughed as Harley lay back down beside him. “You feel any better, buddy?”

Harley just shrugged tiredly.

“Pepper’s got some soup on, if you’re up for it?” Tony suggested hopefully.

Harley screwed his eyes shut and shook his head definitively as Peter called out a desperate “ _No, no, no!_ ” from the bathroom.

“Alright, alright,” Tony laughed. “Maybe after a good night’s sleep,” he hummed, smiling at Peter as he tiredly stumbled out of the bathroom and flopped himself down beside Tony, curling around his pillow with a sigh.

“I hope you washed your hands,” Tony smirked, nudging the kid with his knee.

“I hope you shut up,” Peter mumbled tiredly.

Tony huffed another laugh. “Get some rest, guys,” he murmured, signaling for Friday to dim the lights as he settled back into the pillows.


End file.
